Every Minute Counts
by shadesofmidnightsun
Summary: Saving the world the again isn't easy, especially when you're still paying the price for doing it the first time, nobody believes you can actually do it even though they keep demanding it, and there's a not-so-perfect relationship to maintain. Ultimately, they will have to decide: what price is too high? Frostiron. SEQUEL TO ONE DAY AT A TIME.
1. Chapter 1: Fairytale Gone Bad

A/N: Hi, everyone! It took me longer than expected to start writing this, but now it's here, and I hope you'll enjoy it. The story follows the events of Thor the Dark World to some extent, but a lot of it is going to be different. To avoid any confusion: there is no alignment in this fic.

Some of the contents may be triggering (see the rating), but if you survived TDW, you should be fine. I won't write warnings here so as to not spoil anything. If anyone's worried, you can tell me, and I'll start including them in the A/N at the end.

The title for this chapter is from: Sunrise Avenue—Fairytale Gone Bad

Disclaimer: everything belongs to its rightful owner.

* * *

_You've got the words to change a nation  
But you're biting your tongue  
You've spent a life time stuck in silence  
Afraid you'll say something wrong  
If no one ever hears it how we gonna learn your song?_

_So come on, come on_  
_Come on, come on_  
_You've got a heart as loud as lions_  
_So why let your voice be tamed?_  
_Maybe we're a little different_  
_There's no need to be ashamed_  
_You've got the light to fight the shadows_  
_So stop hiding it away_  
_Come on, come on_

_(Emili Sande—Read All About It)_

* * *

**Chapter I–Fairytale Gone Bad**

_Daymare (noun): a frightening hallucinatory condition experienced while awake _

Rough fingers were digging in his flesh, holding his body down, and his teeth were twisting his bloodied lip—_don't give them the satisfaction, don't_—

His legs were forced apart, and then fingers were between them, and his insides rebelled, suddenly desiring to taste the cold air that smelled of death...

His eyes snapped open, breath caught in his throat, but he stopped his body before it could move. A moment later, the heels of his palms covered his eyes, pressing down against the flesh.

His insides felt cold. The kind of cold that had nothing to do with winter, not even the cold waste of Jotunheim.

Gently, he pried Tony's arm from around his own body and slid out of the bed. His gaze found his discarded clothes, and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull them on as fast as possible to cover his exposed body. He didn't, though. The clothes were wrinkled and dirty, and there were fresh ones in the closet.

He used to like the nights. Now, he couldn't decide whether he hated or feared them.

After dressing in sweatpants and one of Tony's hoodies, he dragged himself into the kitchen, his bare feet soundless against the floor. There wasn't much food in the fridge. Not that he had an appetite. In the end, he boiled some water and tossed in some herbs, then found the blueberries that Tony hadn't used the day before. The man probably wouldn't be surprised anymore if he saw Loki eating them frozen. Which he was about to do; he took the mug of steaming tea and the bag of fruit that had been carelessly ripped apart, and settled on the terrace, leaning against the facade of the house with his back.

Perhaps sex had not been the best idea. He could have waited. But it was so much easier to deal with Tony's lust than with his own; the first he could pretend to overlook, and Tony never pushed. With the latter he either had to resort to denial or indulge it. It presented a danger either way.

He took a sip of tea. Let the taste of mint linger in his mouth before he swallowed.

Yesterday had been so... nice. Safe. A little bubble of affection that his nightmares had managed to pierce so effortlessly. Had their intercourse, no matter how pleasant, how intimate, called the nightmares to his mind?

He wished, quite suddenly, Tony would be here with him. Yet the man could do nothing about Loki's troubles. In a way, it was similar to struggling with the discovery that his sexual preferences weren't strictly limited to women, but not quite the same. It was not the type of sexuality he was struggling with; it was the fact he had a sexuality at all, and by now his fears had subsided enough that he couldn't suppress it any longer. Not completely. It didn't matter how pleasurable Tony made it (and he made it _quite_ pleasurable), Loki was afraid of his own body's needs.

He squeezed the mug in irritation. Pathetic. So pathetic. He'd managed to deal before, he would manage now.

Perhaps he should wake Tony. Somebody needed to make sure his friends got back to America, and Loki saw no reason why he should be that someone. He'd gone to certain lengths to assure his relationship with them was civil, but they were Tony's friends first (even if they'd brought Loki presents).

Putting another handful of blueberries in his mouth, he got to his feet.

Tony was still sprawled all over the bed in his usual way that caused the corners of Loki's lips twitch involuntarily. The mattress dipped under the god's weight. His hand came to rest on Tony's shoulder and shook. The man grumbled something that didn't sound even remotely like a word, and Loki shook him again. This time, chocolate brown peeked through thick eyelashes.

"Hey, snowflake," Tony muttered. "Awake already?"

"Your friends will be mad."

"Who wanted them to come with us, huh?" Tony rubbed his eyes.

Loki shrugged. "It was fun enough."

"True." Tony's fingers brushed the arm the god was leaning on. "Come back to bed."

He was tempted to. So very tempted. But the closeness had lost its appeal for now, so he pulled his arm away. Tony frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm going to make waffles. Do you want some?"

"Like I would ever say no to waffles." Tony sat up. "And I suppose I should get the team back to the USA if they haven't found a way already."

Loki nodded and wanted to leave, but a grip on his wrist stopped him. Tony climbed onto his knees, pulled Loki downwards, and pressed his lips over the god's, morning breath and all, but Loki found himself returning the kiss. It was everything that was good about Tony: safety, affection, acceptance. Love. For once, Loki _was_ good enough for somebody.

The remnants of the dream reverberating in his mind lost a bit of their power. Pushing his hair back and tying it up, he walked back into the kitchen downstairs-

And froze at the door.

"Jarvis? What is the meaning of this?" He narrowed his eyes at the form sitting by the table. "I don't think we were expecting visitors."

"Mr Odinson said it was urgent."

"It doesn't appear very urgent." In fact, Thor was still sitting as if he belonged there, as if it was his birth-given right.

"My apologies, sir."

"Brother..."

"What do you want?"

He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this.

Thor sighed. Perhaps he didn't look quite so self-assured after all. Worry had sharpened his features.

"I require your help."

"My help?" Loki closed the distance to the counter with a few steps and leaned against it. "What would you need my help with, I wonder. I believe I was nothing more than a common whore to you. Why don't you ask one of Asgard's concubines to assist you."

"I never said that!"

Loki's hands balled into fists. "You never had to!"

"Loki, please. I have not come to argue."

"No, you came asking for a favour. Why should I listen to your requests?"

Thor entwined his fingers, then separated them and did it again. "It is about Jane Foster."

"What of her? If you wanted advice," Loki spat, "on how to get between her legs, perhaps you should be asking Tony."

"That's enough!" Thor slammed his fists down on the on the table. "Stop speaking of yourself in such a manner! And not a word about Jane."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Get out."

"It's about the Aether."

"Aether."

"Yes. It has entered Jane's body. Father said she couldn't be helped."

"Then why do you come to me for help?" Loki turned his back on Thor and took a glass out of the cupboard; he'd left the mug in their bedroom.

"If I do nothing, the Aether will kill her."

Water swirled in the glass. "I am not overly familiar with the Aether. In fact, I am not familiar with it at all." He knew the stories, of course, but he was neither in the mood nor in the position to do more research; of all the things Asgard possessed, the library was one of the few he missed.

"Loki, please..." Thor's gaze was pleading. "How would you feel if Stark was going to die?"

His chest constricted painfully. No. He wouldn't think about that.

"I don't know how to get the Aether out of her, Thor."

"You know the books... Is there nothing...?"

Loki pressed his lips together. How fiercely Thor sought to protect his woman. How he had said nothing now and again when Loki had been mocked for a millennium. How nobody had come to help him, how nobody had even asked, nobody but Stark, the man who, at that time, was supposed to be his enemy... Bitter words filled his mouth, but he swallowed them. Thor didn't need to know, and Loki didn't need his pity.

"Perhaps you should read a book or two," he suggested. "Paid attention to the stories. The Aether cannot be destroyed."

"What if the stories lie?"

"What of it? The solution remains hidden. Now get out of my house."

Of course he wouldn't obey. His hands dropped heavily onto Loki's shoulders.

"She will _die_. You would let her die to spite me?"

Loki growled. Had Thor no semblance of a brain in his head? Did he really think everything was about him and him alone? Incapable of accepting the fact Loki did not know a way to pull the Aether out of somebody, and how would he, even, when all he had heard were stories, and stories could be relied on about as much as earthly weather in November. Incapable of believing not everything that left Loki's mouth was insincere. The Trickster wondered why it hurt each and every time; he had given Thor (and the rest of Asgard) an abundance of reasons to mistrust him, yet a small, pathetic part of him was still disappointed every time they didn't believe him. A fool, that's what he was. A sentimental fool.

His lips parted to form a reply, but Thor was faster.

"You think Stark would approve of this pettiness?"

Loki's blood boiled.

"Don't you dare bring Tony into this! Don't you _dare_!" He pointed towards the exit in one mad gesture. "Now get out," he hissed between his teeth. "Get out before I decide to kill your woman myself!"

A storm raged in Thor's eyes, lightning ready to strike, still he turned slowly, threw one more dark glare over his shoulder, and walked away. Half a minute later, Jarvis announced Thor had left the premise, and Loki gripped the edge of the counter with enough force that his knuckles turned snow white and the material itself came closer to denting than Tony would ever want it to be, and that was the only reason it remained in one piece right now.

His breathing rattled through his chest. For a moment, he stood still. Then, he bolted for the door, fighting the instinct to set something on fire, and sucked in a lungful of crisp morning air. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as his legs carried him away from the house, down one street, then another, just away, and he wished teleportation wouldn't demand so much effort so he could reappear in some desolate place where his anger would disturb and sadden only him.

Did he think Tony would approve? Of course he didn't. Tony was _good_, better than Loki would ever be, and Tony' approval... was important. But years and years of insults stung. Worst of all, Thor wasn't even aware. Even when he should have started thinking, some things have never crossed his mind. Perhaps a Jotun's brain really _did_ work differently... But if Loki's brain was the representation of the whole species...

No.

He had to be an exception, brought up in Asgard as he'd been. The Jotnar were monsters. He was a monster. What did Tony see in him?

Tony wouldn't like to see him thinking that... He was sure. But the man didn't know, and no amount of his dislike could change the truth.

He didn't know how much time had passed; by now, he could turn his mind off and simply let his feet carry him around the neighbourhood. Sun rays were caressing his skin in a gentle, soothing way, so very different from the way they could scorch it in the summer that it was sometimes hard to believe they came from the same sun. The weather was getting colder again. It was quite pleasant now; Loki preferred it over summer, but he wasn't overly fond of winters, either; the memory of cold biting into his bones was all too clear in his mind.

Heading back might be the best. Tony was probably wondering where he was... And leaving his phone at home had not been the smartest thing he had ever done. But Thor was terribly talented in agitating him beyond belief...

He huffed, clenching his hands into fists. Of course Thor would stay on his mind even when he was gone. Thor was always on everybody's mind. But that was the problem, wasn't it? It was always Thor.

He shook his head minutely and headed towards home. Perhaps Tony would suggest going to Malibu again. Loki liked it there, but they had only stayed for about two weeks in August. It was too hot for him, and while he could take the heat, it was making him feel tired and uncomfortable; there were still memories in his mind, sharp like shards of broken glass. But now the climate should be milder, and Loki enjoyed the swimming (although Tony had not been impressed with his idea to swim by the cliffs at first. Sometimes, the man still had a hard time understanding what Loki's body was and wasn't capable of).

He crossed the last street, had Jarvis open the gate to the garden, and he walked back to the house. The soles of his feet ached, but he didn't care too much; they weren't bleeding. He headed for the bathroom, partly to clean his feet, partly to relieve himself, and when he emerged again, Tony was there, waiting.

"Hi." Loki deliberately brushed his hand against the man's as he moved towards the living room.

"Hey. What happened?"

Tony followed. Of course Tony followed. There was some kind if security in the knowledge that he would. But Tony asked, too, because for some reason he managed to read Loki like a book, and as much as that made him feel warm inside, it could also be annoyingly inconvenient, especially considering Loki did not feel like sharing his encounter with Thor.

"I had a bad dream," he said simply, sat down on the l-shaped sofa, and stretched his back. Tony settled beside him.

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Not particularly. It was nothing special."

"It drove you out of the bed." Tony's hand brushed against Loki's; a brief, feather-light touch that carried warmth with it, the kind of warmth that somehow managed to travel straight to Loki's chest.

"Was sex a bad idea?"

Loki shook his head. A no was much simpler than the mess in his head. He did not regret the night. He just... didn't know.

"Your friends," he said, moving his hand just a bit in hopes that Tony might take hold of it. "Have they returned home?"

Tony's lips twitched upwards. "Yeah. They weren't overly amused, though. But, you know, I've always been sort of an ass, so at least they can't blame it on your influence."

"You really are an ass."

"Yeah. Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist ass. What do you think?"

"Not original enough." His hand half covered Tony's.

"Maybe. I'll work on it. Oh, there's Thai in the fridge if you want some. Also, how can you run around barefoot in October. Or is it November yet?"

"It's October." Loki pulled his legs up and crossed them.

"Right." Tony finally squeezed his hand. "Babe, I'm sorry about your dream."

Loki frowned. "I told you it was nothing... special."

"Please. You went out for half a day without bothering to put your shoes on. Don't give me that."

For a second or two, he contemplated telling Tony about Thor. But what if Tony thought he should have agreed to help? He wouldn't he mad, Loki knew as much, but seeing disproval in those brown eyes hurt in places where there should be no pain.

"Nothing new, then."

"Would it help you if you started meeting with Liv again?"

He shook his head. "Telling her won't change the past."

Tony's thumb began moving over the back of Loki's hand. "What about me?"

Loki shrugged. He could still feel the bruising grip on his thighs, the coldness of their fingers, the blood in his mouth, and the darkness... The darkness that had come before and had not left since...

He gripped Tony's fingers back. "Can we watch a movie?"

"Of course we can. I heard there are really cute minions in Despicable Me. What do you say?"

_Don't hurt me. Promise you won't ever hurt me._

But he could not ask for that. What use was it, asking for impossibilities?

"It sounds all right." He leaned his head on Tony's shoulder though the position did nothing for his neck.

Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Jane felt her heartbeat reverberating through every inch of her body and echoing the shaky inhales she was trying to silence by pressing a hand over her mouth. Her lungs felt too small, her eyes were burning and unable to shift away from the figure that lay crumpled on the floor. She blinked when the lightning came, twitched at the display of rage she'd never seen in Thor before.

It was over so fast. Finally, she could allow herself to make a noise, but when she lowered her hand, nothing but quiet breathing came out.

Stepping out of her hiding place, she watched the old King gather the Queen in his arms as if pressing her against his chest could somehow cause his heartbeat to become contagious, and her eyes to open again.

She watched as Thor, his face a mask of pain-stricken shock, stared at his mother and then slowly, slowly made a step towards her. Another one. Another.

He dropped to his knees and with gentleness that seemed almost uncharacteristic caressed Frigga's cheek.

A tear fell and disappear into dark blond locks.

Jane couldn't see Odin's face, since it was buried in the bloodied folds of the Queen's dress, but suddenly, the old Áss screamed, roared in pain, and threw his head back. Jane twitched. Thor turned to his father, more silent tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. His hand squeezed Odin's forearm.

Jane lowered her head. It was their private grief she was intruding on. Their loss. Although she had nothing but admiration for the woman who'd willingly endangered herself to save her kingdom, Frigga had been a stranger to her.

Perhaps she should leave.

But perhaps Thor could find some comfort in her presence? In her safety? Did she even matter now when his mother was dead and he overcome with grief? She could hardly compare to a mother, or what she had with Thor with a bond more than thousand years old.

Tentatively, she lifted her eyes to Thor's face. As if feeling her gaze, he looked up, and his lips twitched as if he was trying to smile for her. She shook her head.

No, he didn't have to force on a smile for her.

No, she wasn't hurt.

No, she didn't know what to do, either.

"Jane," he said quietly.

Her steps were slow as she approached Thor, every movement slowed by uncertainty, but he stood and stretched his hand towards her; his palm was warm on the side of her neck.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Jane." He gave her neck a gentle squeeze and let go. He turned. Placed the same hand on Odin's shoulder.

"Father."

Odin's eye was dry, but strangely absent and red.

"She's dead," he whispered.

Thor nodded.

Jane looked away.

"We cannot stay here," Thor said.

Movement made Jane look again. Thor was holding Frigga in his arms, and Odin stood beside him, looking numb. Jane followed the two gods without thinking. As soon as they came through the door, though, she saw guards running towards them, their armour rattling.

They came to an abrupt halt, eyes on Frigga's body. Pressed their fists to their chests and sank to the floor.

Perhaps it was a way to give their condolences. Jane was hardly a good judge of what was proper here, but they weren't being very helpful.

She suddenly felt very out of place.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

It was evening when Thor entered her rooms after she'd been left alone for hours. Deep lines made his face look older. His steps were tired.

Without a word, Jane took his hand and led him to the sofa by the fireplace. The soft crackling of fire served as background noise. It was relaxing, in some way.

Thor squeezed Jane's hand.

"The funeral will be just before dawn."

"That is… very fast."

"We are at war, Jane Foster. The enemy will not rest."

"Then stop being at war," she murmured. "Until morning. Stop being at war." She turned towards him, hand reaching up to touch his face. "Rest."

He covered her hand with his own and pressed it against his face.

"I cannot believe she is gone," he breathed.

Jane didn't say anything. Slowly, she guided his head down until it was resting in her lap, her fingers carding through her hair.

"It is my fault," he said.

"No."

"I could have been faster. I could have saved her."

"It is not your fault, Thor," Jane said gently. For it was hers. Her curiosity had endangered an entire realm.

She knew what Thor's answer to her thoughts would be, so she didn't voice them. But that didn't stop her eyes from tearing up.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Loki refused the invitation to bed. But sometime in the middle of the night, Tony felt the mattress shift, and opened his eyes a crack. Loki wasn't looking at him as he crawled under the blanket and curled up against Tony's side. His breathing lulled the billionaire back to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Reviews are very welcome ^^

Merry Christmas everyone!

~shades


	2. Chapter 2: If It's the Postman

**Summary: **Stark Mansion attracts another unexpected visitor, and of course everybody turns to Loki when they need help breaking the law.

**Chapter II–If It's the Postman **

_Consternation (noun): a feeling of anxiety or dismay, typically at something unexpected. _

He missed the sun stirring him awake, but feeling Loki's warmth beside him made up for it in a very nice way.

Tony propped himself on an elbow and caressed Loki's cheek with his free hand. The god's sleep seemed peaceful; no frown marred his brow, no sign of another nightmare present. He still hadn't told Tony what dream had upset him so two days ago, but at least he'd been sleeping since then. A soft smile stretched Tony's lips. There were times Loki was hard to deal with, but there were moments like this, too, when he was so incredibly thankful to have the Trickster.

Feeling lazy, he shifted a bit closer to Loki and lay back down.

The doorbell rang. Before Tony could even groan in annoyance, Loki twitched in his arms.

"If it's the postman, tell him to go away," the man groaned.

"No, sir. It is Ms Foster."

He felt Loki tense at that.

"Jane?"

What the hell was Jane doing here?

"Let her in," he said, pushing the blanket away. "We'll be right there." He switched sweatpants for jeans and the stretched t-shirt he slept in for a clean whiter shirt. From the corner of the eye, he saw Loki changing, too. They strode out of the room almost at the same time, Tony at Loki's heels, and walked downstairs. Suddenly, Loki stopped. Tony just barely avoided bumping into him. He stepped to the side.

Jane was standing in the hall, hands crossed on her back, and observing the pieces of abstract art that were hanging on the walls. A long cloak fell over her left shoulder and covered parts of her creamy dress. Tony had never seen her wear anything like this. It was very, very odd, and seemed to scream Asgard at the top of its lungs.

"You seem to be holding up well."

Tony glanced to his right, catching sight of Loki's narrowed eyes and closed-off face.

Jane turned to face them.

"For now." Her gaze settled on Loki. She took a breath. "Look, I know you don't want to help us, but this isn't just about Thor and me. The whole of Asgard is in danger. And I'm not"—she sort of chortled in a way that had nothing to with humour and everything with nerves—"I'm not the one who should be asking this, and I know you must hate me for what happened, but Thor is discussing things—"

"What do you mean, what happened?" Loki cut in.

Tony frowned. He was missing something. A big something. This whole conversation was about a topic he knew nothing about, and when had Loki and Jane spoken since that time when the movie night had gone wrong?

Jane blinked. "Well, the attack and—and… I'm so sorry for that. She was protecting me, and—"

"For what? Who?" Urgency coloured Loki's voice. "What are you talking about?"

Jane's eyebrows arched. "Thor said he'd talked to you… That you'd already refused him…"

"Yes," Loki snarled. "Two days ago. What of it?"

"Two… two days? Oh my god… He didn't…" She covered her mouth with her hand.

"He didn't what!? What are you not telling me?!"

Tony automatically grabbed Loki's hand. He didn't want to see Jane held by the collar and shaken like a small kitten.

"Malekith lead an attack on Asgard," Jane said quietly, arms wrapped around her torso. "Frigga was killed."

"_What?"_

"I'm sorry—"

"_What?!"_ Loki jerked forwards. "She wasn't—She can't have—She's not—_You're lying! You're fucking lying!"_

Jane retreated even as Loki reached for her, and Tony gripped his elbows and jerked him back hard enough for Loki's back to hit the inventor's chest. Tony's arm wrapped around the god's torso.

"Loki," he said urgently. "Loki."

The god shook his head. "No. No, no, no!"

Tony managed to catch Jane's gaze and jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. She pointed the same way, a question in her eyes, then nodded and walked away without letting Loki out of her sight.

"Snowflake…"

"No. No, _she can't be dead!_"

"Loki." Tony walked around to Loki's front and hugged him more tightly. Hands clutched him, fingers digging into his shoulder and middle of his back.

"She's lying," Loki muttered into Tony's neck. "It's a lie, it's a filthy lie."

"Breathe, babe…" Tony started rubbing Loki's back.

"Tony..."

A pause. A shaky breath.

"Tony…"

Fingers dug into the man's skin.

"_Tony._"

"I know…" He unwrapped his arms from around Loki and made a step back. "Let's sit down, okay?" He took Loki's hand and led the way to the couches. Loki dropped down on the cushions as if he had no energy left to keep on standing. His eyes were glistering and dark, but there were no tears.

Tony settled down next to him. He squeezed Loki's hand; it was trembling in his grip.

"I'm sorry…"

"She's dead."

Loki's voice sounded much too close to the same state, too.

"I'm sorry, babe."

He remembered coming home in the middle of the night, not even completely sober, to find the police in front of his house. He'd thought they were there to arrest him or something.

"I'm so sorry."

Remembered throwing up on somebody's shoes when they'd delivered the news. Remembered feeling numb. Screaming. Passing out.

Loki gripped his hand strong enough to cause pain. He seemed to realize it a second later; the hold loosened.

"You didn't do anything. Don't be sorry."

"My condolences then." But that sounded so formal, so much like he didn't care at all when in reality, he did.

"Why?" Loki exhaled. "Why her?"

Tony imagined he could read _Why the only person I care about? _in his eyes. He shifted closer to the Trickster, freed his hand, and placed his arm around Loki's shoulders.

"The woman." Loki looked at him. "She must know what happened."

"Perhaps. I can ask her to—"

Loki was on his feet in a blink of an eye, striding towards the kitchen.

"You," Tony heard him say before he entered the room as well, "you know how she died? Who killed her?"

Jane, who was sitting at the table, looked up. The frown on her face made it clear she disapproved of the way Loki had addressed her.

"He was with Malekith," she said, "but I don't know his identity."

"Malekith." Loki began pacing like a caged beast. "Tell me."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You could at least pretend to be thankful to me."

For a moment, Loki stopped. "For what? Delivering the news of my mother's passing? _She is dead! I cannot be thankful!"_

He kept glaring for a second longer before he resumed the pacing.

"Would you rather I didn't?" Jane countered.

Loki snarled something that may or may not have been a word. He flexed his fingers. Tony opened his mouth and closed it again. His gaze was on Loki's back now.

"Did she suffer?"

Jane shook her head. "No. She was... very brave. She sacrificed herself."

Loki turned to face her again. "You were there." His voice was level and calm, but a thick, protective wall.

Jane nodded. "Malekith wanted the Aether," she said quietly. "Queen Frigga hid me from him, left a doppelgänger in my place. I was wondering why she didn't do it herself, too." She paused for a second. "But then I saw she meant to kill Malekith. And she would have succeeded if it wasn't for his… henchman. She was stabbed from behind. It happened quickly."

Loki shifted. He leaned on the backrest of a chair, hands gripping the wood. He stood still for a while.

"Thank you," he said finally. "For telling me."

"I thought Thor had told you," she said.

Loki ignored the comment. His voice was level and blank. "What did you want my help with?"

Yes, excellent question. Tony wanted to know that, too.

"Thor said the Aether guided Malekith to Asgard. He wanted it back, that's why they attacked. Since they failed to get it, they will try again. As far as I understood, Asgard has no way to fight them. Its defences don't work. Malekith can make his ship turn invisible."

"What do you want from me? I already told Thor I can't get the Aether out of you."

Jane cocked her head. "But is it the truth?"

Loki's fingers twitched in a way that never meant anything good. The tightness in his jaw told Tony enough about the damage that remark had done.

"So you thought under the pressure of having the destruction of Asgard on my conscience, I would admit I refused just to spite Thor?" Loki's fingers gripped the backrest tighter for a moment, then released it, and he began pacing again. "Listen well, Jane Foster. I do not have the knowledge to pull the Aether out of your body. Given enough time, there is a big possibility I could acquire it, but _you do not have time_. If accusing me of having lied is the only reason you've come, you may as well take your leave."

"It's not," she said, levelling Loki with a stare. Tony had to hand it to her, she was holding her ground rather well. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that—if that was what Loki had meant with the lack of time—she was dying.

The Trickster made a swirling gesture with his hand. "Enlighten me."

"They came up with a possibility," she said, and Tony decided it was high time for him to sit down. Loki didn't seem about to strangle the scientist, so Tony could probably relax a bit.

"Thor, Odin, somebody else perhaps. I think it's still being discussed." Jane took a breath. "The Aether is Malekith's weapon. He can control it, and so he should be able to get it out of me. Thor thinks he could destroy it and Malekith at that time."

"Ah, then it must be true."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Tony.

"I don't know about that, but there's a problem—Odin won't let Thor do that. As far as I know, he is afraid that if Thor died, Asgard would be left without an heir and exposed to the threat of a civil war."

Loki huffed. "_Now_ he is afraid of that? Have you any idea how many pointless battles Thor has engaged in during his life? No"—he stalked behind Jane like a predator—"I think _you_ are the problem. Thor likes you too much."

Jane fixed him with a glare. "Odin doesn't seem to be complaining about your choice of a partner."

"Well, I'm not the future king of Asgard, am I?"

What _was_ he to Asgard? Tony had never asked about the details. As far as he knew, Loki was happy staying as far away from Asgard as possible. Would he be accepted back? Better question, would he be allowed back? Was he still a prince there? He hadn't been renounced, right?

"Asgard needs a future queen. They want little princes and princesses. A romance with a mortal is not what they expect from their king-to-be."

Jane lowered her eyes.

"You will be dead so soon in their eyes. Perhaps you won't matter long term, but you cannot expect anyone but Thor and those few Aesir who would go out of their way for him to help you."

Loki walked around the table and sat down on the chair across from Tony's. Their feet touched for a moment.

"Does Asgard still require the Tesseract for travel or have they rebuilt the Bifrost yet?"

"They have the Bifrost."

"I assume Odin won't let you use it?"

Jane nodded.

"And Heimdall must have told Thor about the existence of the secret paths."

She shrugged. "I don't know about that. But Thor said you'd be able to get us to Svatl—Svarf—"

"Svartalfheim."

Were all Aesir words such tongue twisters?

"Yes. Is it true?"

Loki pressed his lips together. He nodded. His foot came to rest against Tony's, seeking contact.

"Will you help us?"

Elbows resting on the table, the god clasped his hands in front of his chin. His eyelids slid about halfway down, his eyebrows wrinkled just the slightest.

"Perhaps. Where is Heimdall in this?"

"I don't know. I think Thor talked to him?"

"Hm." The chair's legs screeched against the floor as Loki got up. "You will go back to Asgard. Tell Thor I will let you know by dawn."

"How?"

"Simple." A crooked grin spread over his face. "Either I will be there, or I will not."

~*oO*o*Oo*~

"Huh." Tony leaned on the door he'd just closed behind Jane. "I've got so many questions."

"I was wondering how you managed to keep silent the whole time."

Tony shrugged. "I wanted to hear what you had to say."

A barely-there smile formed on Loki's lips. "Ask away," he said and pushed strands of hair out of his face. He was starting to leave it loose and completely untamed like this more often. Tony's fondness for running fingers through it may have attributed to that.

"You can walk between the realms?" Tony tugged at Loki's sleeve and began pulling him towards the living room.

"Yes. The Nine Realms, they… coexist at the same time on different planes. I imagine you might call it alternate realities, though it is not quite like that. Perhaps you could say they exist in the same place on different wavelengths. Be that as it may"—he curled up in the corner of the couch and Tony made himself comfortable beside him—"there are places where the boundaries between them are blurred. It is possible to cross from one realm to another there. Of course somebody who can walk through the in-between doesn't need a fixed tunnel…"

"I imagine you can do that?"

Loki nodded.

Tony pouted. "And you didn't tell me before. How does it look like? Is it dark? Like the space? Can you get lost? Could you take me with you? I really want to see if it's anything like… Loki?"

The god's hands were clenches in fists, his eyes glistening.

"I didn't even get to see her," he whispered.

"Your mother?" Tony asked quietly and placed his hand over Loki's fist.

"I wanted… I would have gone to see her, but I didn't want to go to Asgard again and… We live so long; there should have been time. I needed time." He turned towards Tony, eyes pleading. The billionaire nodded.

"I just needed time," Loki repeated more quietly. "And now she's gone."

A tear drew a line down his pale cheek. Tony brushed it away with his thumb. Loki leaned into the touch, and his eyes slid shut. Then, his whole body stiffened, eyes snapping open.

"The funeral," he whispered and gripped Tony's forearms. "I forgot to ask. How could I forget?"

"You were shocked." He was holding it together well as it was.

"No." Loki shook his head. His grip tightened. "No, how could I forget?! _How_?!"

"Shh…" Tony pried Loki's fingers apart and pulled the god closer; he could feel the other's body tremble. "You were shocked. It's okay. I threw up on a police officer… Admittedly, I may have drunk a beer or two… I took it a lot worse. Not that this is helping you, just, um…"

Loki's hands moved to Tony's shoulders, fingers desperately clutching at the fabric, and he pressed himself against Tony. His body shook even worse than before.

"I've got you," Tony murmured as he wound his arms around Loki. "I've got you, babe."

Loki nodded against the man's shoulder. A strangled sound fought its way free of his throat, and he cried.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

It took a long, long time for Loki to calm down. Tony mostly registered the passage of time as a feeling of hunger that, once formed, refused to go away. It had to be around midday, and he'd skipped breakfast, but he didn't want to bother Loki, so he let it be.

Until now.

"Hey." He gently shook Loki's shoulder. The god was sort of curled up on his lap, legs tucked under him, and more than halfway lying on Tony. He didn't even move.

"Hmm?"

"I'll go grab something to eat. You want anything?"

"Nn—nnh."

"Sure?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Okay. Come on, let me up." He pushed at Loki's shoulders to get the god to roll off him, then dragged himself into the kitchen. He made a sandwich from whatever was at hand, and grabbed a bottle of water and orange juice from the fridge. When he came back, Loki was sitting up with both feet on the floor.

"I'm going to Asgard," he said, accepting the orange juice Tony offered without a word. He didn't open it, though.

"That's…" The right thing to do, probably. People friendly. Saving-Asgard friendly. "Nice of you."

Loki looked up at him. His eyes were… strange. Not empty, no, but it seemed like all the emotions were separated from the reality by a thick layer of ice.

"I need to see her funeral."

Tony nodded. He sat down.

Loki finally took a long gulp of juice.

"They always seem to remember I exist only when they need me, either to help them or merely serve as someone to blame."

Tony wished he could argue against this, but he really couldn't. He didn't know nearly enough about what Loki's life in Asgard had been like, and what he did know had come from Loki with all the biases, prejudice, and pain. Yet, despite knowing that, he took Loki's side readily. Loki's pain was real; everything else was a distanced golden kingdom in the sky.

What he didn't agree with was Loki exposing himself to danger. It wasn't really his choice, he knew that much, and he had no right to complain (being Iron Man came with a few occupational hazards). But he worried. Loki could be a capable fighter all he wanted to—and he was, too, Tony had been thrown onto his ass enough times to be very aware of that little detail—it didn't matter. He still didn't seem completely comfortable with magic, and in the past months, Tony had occasionally found him sitting on the foot of the bed or on the balcony, just staring at his fingers.

"Perhaps. I..." Loki lowered his eyes. "Would you...come with me?"

"To Asgard?" Hadn't Loki said taking somebody through the in between wasn't a good idea? Or was he planning to lead them through a passage?

"Yes, I..." Pleading green eyes turned to him. "Please," Loki said in a small voice. "Please..."

"Yeah." He hadn't been about to refuse. There was no reason to, anyway, and going with the god had a few good sides. First, new data. The scientist part of Tony's brain couldn't resist the offer of new knowledge. He'd been in Asgard before, but it had been very brief, and he hadn't had the opportunity to explore anything. There was also the little matter of intergalactic travel. Most importantly, he'd get to be close to Loki when the latter needed him.

"Sure I'm going with you. When are we leaving? Where's the passage? We are using a passage, right?"

Loki twisted his lower lip between his teeth. Slowly, he gave a single nod.

"Okay. And where can we find it?"

"Central park. The barrier is thin there. Thor chose the spot that time without knowing it, but I think, on some level, he felt it."

"So there's some spot you can just walk through?" It didn't sound very probable; somebody would have stumbled upon it, and Tony would have probably heard about people disappearing.

"Not exactly, no. It only serves as a door; it still needs to be opened."

Hm. That made more sense. It also made his brain shuffle through the possible explanations for the phenomena. He would have to bother Loki about it sometime later.

"Uh-huh. I'll leave that to you, I suppose. When are we going?"

"Now?"

"You sure? We can take more time if you need it."

Loki shook his head. His eyebrows formed a determined line.

"We're going."

"All right." He wasn't about to oppose. "I'll just get my suit and all that. I guess we'll be gone for a couple of days?"

Loki shrugged.

"Jarvis, if Pepper or Bruce need anything, tell them we've got business in Asgard. Oh, and have them feed the cats. Babe?"

Loki's eyebrows rose just the slightest.

"Try to eat something. And I still want to hear about the whole Aether thing."

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading. Reviews are appreciated.

Also, I'll try to keep the updates regular, but it's unlikely they will be up more often than every two weeks. Real Life is being a terrible bitch right now.

~shades


	3. Chapter 3: Night's of Gold

**Summary: **Tony learns intergalactic travelling doesn't always include sightseeing right away, and Loki proves traditional ways of greeting family are overrated.

**Chapter III–Nights of Gold**

_Anamnesis (noun): recollection, especially of a supposed previous existence._

Loki felt his heart slamming against his breastbone, and he gripped Tony's hand (he was glad his palms never got sweaty, although the man could probably still tell how nervous he was).

He balled his other hand into a fist to keep it from trembling.

The passage would lead them to the far side of the palace gardens, and they would have to rely on his illusions from then on, but he would rather do that than set foot in the in-between again. His chest ached at that knowledge; there was something so wonderful, some place only he knew, and he was still too terrified from his fall to enter it again. The memory of Thanos burned too strong.

Tony squeezed his hand, and Loki forced the painful thoughts aside.

"You okay, babe?"

He nodded. Took a deep breath—and reached out with his power. Magic bled through his body like a warm, healing liquid. The air around them shimmered for a fraction of a second, long enough to distort the vision of anyone who may have been observing them. Sometimes, it was a necessity; Tony was too well known. Already, rumours about Tony being seen with a man couldn't be stopped, and while Tony didn't seem to mind too much, Loki didn't want to cause him any trouble, nor did he desire it for himself.

Closing his eyes, he let magic swirl around him, searching for the door, knocking on it. The universe parted. He took a deep breath, squeezed Tony's hand—

And pulled them through.

Power touched him, an atmosphere not unlike the in-between. Could Tony sense it, too, on some level?

It was over in but a moment. The park was gone, the trees substituted by a green cage of weeping willows. Water licked his shins. The only thing that remained was his hand in Tony's. And Tony. Always Tony.

"You teleported us into a lake!?"

"Shhh!" Loki hissed. "I didn't _teleport_ us, it's a pond, and yes, we're standing in water. My apologies to your designer shoes."

Tony pouted. "Just sneakers," he muttered. "Give a man a warning."

"All right..." Sighing, he glanced at the Iron Man suitcase in Tony's other hand and the duffle bag hanging from his shoulder. "Next time. But now you'll do exactly as I say and be quiet unless I tell you otherwise."

Tony flashed him a grin. "Bossy. I like that."

Loki rolled his eyes.

"We need to get into the palace. Unnoticed. Which means you won't squeal when I use glamour on you."

"What gla—"

His mouth remained gaping open when his clothes changed from earthly fashion to the armour of a guard, and the suitcase in his hand to a sword. The duffle bag was suddenly invisible.

"What—how—this is amazing!"

Loki shot him a glare. "Shh!"

"Sorry," Tony mouthed.

"All right. Be careful with that." He nodded towards the sword. "It's _only_ glamour. You're still holding your suit, so don't wave it around too much."

Tony nodded. Loki closed his eyes, telling himself to be calm, and felt glamour distort his exterior as well.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

It was easy to get into the palace. Embarrassingly easy, but then Loki had spent too much time trying to tell both Odin and the Council how unprotected the palace grounds were against magic users; they'd just refused to understand why any civilized person would sneak in in such an underhanded way, and the creatures who would did not possess magical power anyway.

Well, they only needed to look at him now.

Thor's chambers were a little more complicated—unless, of course, one knew when one shift ended and another began, and timed the arrival appropriately. A smooth word or two as a bonus, and the doors were opened for them.

Pathetic.

It had to be too easy to grow lazy and careless if one continued to sit on the glory of days long past.

Loki led the way through the arcade gallery, which was empty of servants at the moment, to the double doors leading into the more private rooms. He hadn't seen so much gold at once in a long time, but a millennium of walking these corridors had left its mark. They were familiar, known—yet alien and cold.

Without pausing, he pushed the door to the common room open, hoping Thor was there, so he could finally, finally drop the glamour and stop fighting to keep memories at bay.

A broad shouldered figure stood by the open fireplace. Another, slighter, was seated on the cushions. The sound of doors swinging open had Thor turning, a scowl on his face.

"Is anything the matter?" he said. "I don't remember sending for you—"

"That would be because you didn't," Loki snapped and pushed the door shut behind Tony. Glamour bled away from them like so much spilled water.

"Brother!" Thor's face lit up, and Loki felt anger stir inside him. "You came!"

"Not for you," he retorted. "I want to see m—Frigga before the funeral."

Thor blinked as if Loki had just said something foolish, then did it again.

"We... already had the funeral."

The world shifted.

They'd already...

And Thor hadn't...

He hadn't...

Red leaked into his vision, and a breath rattled through his chest.

"Bro—"

Before Thor could finish, Loki slammed his fist into the other's jaw. Eyes wide, Thor stumbled back a step, and then Loki's fist connected with his face again.

"Brother—"

"Don't you dare!" Loki swung his arm again, but this time Thor caught it. Loki brought the elbow of his other arm down on Thor's wrist; it earned him a howl. "Don't you _dare_ ever call me that again! You are not my brother! You are _not_, and I _don't want you to be!_"

He managed to punch Thor in the face a second time. A moment later, a blow into his sternum made him stagger back.

"Loki," Tony said somewhere behind him, but Loki threw himself at Thor again. How could he not have told him? How could Thor claim they were brothers, yet he didn't care enough to let him know about the funeral? About his mother's death?

Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised... Why would they want a monster present at the ceremony...?

The woman was saying something in the background in a panicked voice, and he heard Tony's voice, too, but all he could see was Thor's blood where the Thunderer's lip had been split, and skin, skin Loki could hurt and mar. A hand closed around his upper arm, but he shook it off and lunged at Thor again, blinded by anger. A moment later, he was slammed against the wall.

His response was instinctive. Fire bloomed in his hands and danced up to his shoulders where Thor's grip was holding him captive. He heard a roar, felt the absence of the grip, but it didn't matter because his body was frozen, fearing pain, expecting pain, and he was sorry, he hadn't meant to, he really hadn't meant to—

He blinked. Thor was standing there, panting, and cradling his hands, and staring back, and Tony was there, too, slowly getting closer, and the stone wall behind Loki was solid, and familiar, and _here_.

His heartbeat began to slow down to its regular speed again. Tony came to stand beside him.

"You okay?"

Loki nodded. He was angry, so very angry, and torn inside, feeling as if something had been ripped out of him, but he wasn't panicking. He had no idea how much of that pang of terror could have been seen on the outside, but Tony had noticed the way he always did. Mostly. Sometimes, he wasn't there to notice.

Pushing his hair back, he moved from the wall and sat down on one of the couches. He focused on Jane, who was sitting across from him now. At least she'd cared to share the news with him unlike Thor. They did have an agreement: Asgard would leave Loki alone, and Loki would not interfere with their matters. Still, Frigga hadn't been only their matter… Not completely.

"What is the plan?"

"We go to Svartalfheim. Malekith will get the Aether out of Jane's body, and I shall attack him," Thor said from the side.

Not taking his eyes from Jane, Loki asked, "And you think this is going to work?"

"Of course. Why would it not?"

"Funny that." His lips stretched into a mirthless grin. "You're not saying anything, yet I keep hearing some noise…"

Jane opened her mouth, then closed it a second later. Tony didn't say anything, for which Loki was grateful. If anyone were to even attempt to defend Thor right now… He pressed his lips together.

"Miss Foster. Would you care to explain what you plan you have devised?"

She looked from him to Thor and back again, her mouth slightly agape. "I don't really know much. We wanted to go there and get rid of the Aether…"

Loki resisted the urge to facepalm, as Tony would say.

"Of course that would cause no suspicion whatsoever to arise… You expect to walk to enemy land, practically bringing them what they want on a silver platter, and have no questions asked? Brilliant. Have you considered Malekith could pull the Aether out of your body just as easily if you're dead?"

"I… No, but I'm not exactly the expert here." She stared back at him.

"Indeed, you're not."

"I'm not, either," Tony blurted next to Loki. The latter rolled his eyes at his lover.

"What?" Tony raised his hands defensively. "I felt the need to point it out. Sure, I'm a genius, but I wouldn't want the burden of expectations…"

Loki rolled his eyes again, but with much more affection this time. He turned to Jane again.

"I will think of something. In the meantime, we'll be in my chambers…"

"Brother..."

He ignored the idiot.

"Tony?"

The man nodded and got up. Loki did, too. A moment later, glamour flickered around them; Loki grit his teeth.

He could do that, there was nobody who would—

"We'll be back," he said in a flat voice and made for the door, only glancing to his side to make sure Tony was there. He led the way out with quick steps, striding through the open arcade hall and out of Thor's chambers, past the guards, away from Thor, away, away. He could feel Tony's presence next to him and longed for contact but couldn't afford to seek it out here, in the corridors.

Finally, he pressed his palms against the door of his own chambers. His _old_ chambers. The place he used to call home for so long.

The doors opened obediently; a soft hum of magic ran through the metallic framework. They passed the doorstep. The glamour bled away, and Loki breathed a heavy sigh. His eyes slid closed. He didn't need to see the pillars leading up to four-centred arches to know they were there; his skin remembered the texture of stone from the times he used to hide behind them as a small child; his fingers knew the ornate patterns they'd traced so many times; his body knew the two stairs leading down to the centre of the hall; his ears expected to hear the crackling of the fire coming from the torches that nobody had touched for years.

Hands came to rest on his upper arms and a warm body pressed against his back.

"Snowflake..."

He sucked in another breath and leaned into the touch, hungry for the familiarity and comfort.

Tony's arms came around to his front.

"You have a bedroom somewhere in here, or is it all gothic cathedral?"

"This is nothing like the gothic style. You don't have a clue about architecture."

"I could build a house that wouldn't collapse. And pointed arches equal gothic."

"Not _these_ arches. They are not narrow like a cathedral's. Arches alone don't determine the style."

"I know," Tony whispered against Loki's neck. "But it took your mind off other things for a moment. And all this does look pretty impressive."

"In a way, yes." He could see the magnificence of the architecture, the appeal it would hold for the earthly eye, but it was all too familiar, too heavy with memories.

Tony let go and took Loki's hand. "Come on. Let's get some rest."

Loki nodded. He turned left, pushed another door out of the way, and then another, and stopped in the sleeping chamber, gaze sweeping over the canopy master bed, the empty, cold fire place, and his beloved books covering an entire wall. Another one held the door to the balcony running down the whole wing of the palace. There were still papers scattered on the desk, droplets of ink splattered over one of them. A discarded quill lay on the side, exactly where he'd left it before the coronation.

_The coronation_. He'd barely had the time to breathe after that, or the strength to.

Everything was the way he'd left it. The quilts on the bed. One of his coats thrown over the backrest of the chair. The books on the nightstand, one of them opened.

Only the layer of dust was new.

A sudden pain gripped his chest and forced a strange, strangled sound out of his throat.

Had nobody ever come here? He knew magic prevented just anyone from sneaking in, but his mother? Thor?

If they had left the things untouched, had they dared to hope he might have survived? Thor had said they'd thought him dead, so why? Had nobody even wanted to come here?

"Hey..." Tony was suddenly there, his hand reaching up to Loki's cheek and making a wiping motion as if there were tears there, but there were none.

His body shuddered.

Tony took his hand and slowly, step by step, led him to the bed. Loki followed without protest and allowed himself to be guided down onto the mattress after Tony had pulled the top cover from it. The smell of dust filled Loki's nose for a moment. He felt numb. A part of his mind registered that Tony was pulling boots from his feet, and he wanted to protest, to say he could do that on his own, but he didn't want to move. He wasn't sure he could.

Pathetic.

But then Tony was lying beside him and parting his lips with a kiss, and Loki couldn't care if he was behaving like a weakling anymore. Tony never cared. He managed to make Loki feel loved, even worthy of that love, although there was a small part buried somewhere deep inside him fearfully counting seconds until Tony would go. It was inevitable. No matter how fast the man came back, his touch couldn't last forever.

"We need a plan," he muttered when Tony pulled away.

"You need to sleep."

He tried shaking his head. "I need to come up with a plan."

"And you will." Tony pressed his body against Loki's side and propped himself on an elbow. "After you get some rest. There will be enough time."

"Perhaps…"

Tony leaned in again, brushing his lips over Loki's. The god let himself be kissed while his mind drifted further and further away. Tony's lips moved to his cheek, and then they were gone, but Loki was too close to sleep to care.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

"My, this looks important."

Thor glanced around the table where his friends were seated. His gaze lingered on Fandral.

"It is important. I am taking Jane to Svartalfheim at nightfall.

Sif, forearms resting on the table, leaned forward. "Has the Allfather changed his mind?"

Thor shook his head. "Loki has agreed to help me."

"Wasn't he banished?" Volstagg spoke from the side.

"Aye." Thor glanced at his hands. He didn't know what Loki's status was at the moment, but surely he must have had some sort of agreement with their father. Odin was not in the habit of crying for no reason, though what had caused those tears to appear, Thor had yet to find out. The lack of trust stung.

"Are you mad?! He will stab you in the back the first chance he gets!"

Thor returned Sif's gaze. "No, he won't."

"And what have you promised him to be so sure?"

A pang of guilt went through his chest. He hadn't even thanked Loki. It was true that Loki had attacked him upon his arrival, but Thor still owed him gratefulness. Loki's rage burned him. Thor had been planning to inform Loki of their mother's death, but what would another day or two had been? Frigga would still be dead, whereas a day or two could determine whether Jane lived or died. The funeral had come and gone as well. There really would not have been a difference if he'd told Loki later.

"He is here because he chose to be. I know he won't betray me." Not with Man of Iron around.

"You trust him too much," Hogun said, then turned to Heimdall. "Is it not your job to report any trespassers?"

The Watchman inclined his head just the slightest. "You know not what I see or hear. If I'd seen Loki in Asgard, I would have to report it, yes."

"Enough about that," Thor said. "I'm asking you to help me. All of you. It may not be necessary, but it also might."

Silence settled over them for a moment, heavy with anticipation.

Sif leaned forward. "What do we need to do?"

* * *

A/N: A huge thank to everyone who's read/reviewed/favourited/etc. this story so far. I hope you're all doing great. Stay awesome.

(And maybe drop a review, yes?)

~shades


	4. Chapter 4: So Much Darkness in Space

A/N: I just want to thank anyone who's been reading, reviewing, etc. this so far. A huge thanks goes to my beta, too.

* * *

**Summary**: Revenge burns. Tony is not very fond of closed doors. Perhaps visiting foreign realms is not the best hobby one can have.

**Chapter IV—So Much Darkness in Space**

_Tenebrosity (noun): the quality of being dark or shadowy._

Tony, wind ruffling his hair, did not like the situation at all. For one, he was stuck on a flying boat with no apparent engine. He'd seen enough magic by now to not completely ruin his brain by trying to scientifically explain it, but it bothered him nonetheless. In fact, it bothered him almost as much as their plan.

Things had gone ridiculously easy up to that point. Thor hadn't mentioned if he'd needed any help from his friends at all, but he had brought the boat (flying or not, Tony refused to call it anything else) with no guards trailing behind him, and so far, the flight had been smooth.

That was, not counting the tension between them.

Loki was standing at the rudder, tall and silent, looking formidable in his Aesir clothing again. Tony's gaze lingered on the collar framing the pale column of Loki's neck and the skin-tight leather hugging his thighs. Naturally, the stupid cloak had to cover Loki's behind. Perhaps it was for the best; now was not the time for wanting those legs wrapped around his waist. Not that Tony wouldn't much rather be having sex than flying into battle, and one where he was supposed to be invisible no less. Loki had assured him he could do it, and there was nothing for Tony to do but trust him, hoping their plan would work.

Jane wasn't looking very good. She'd collapsed almost the moment they'd started from the palace and was now sitting at the back of the boat, wrapped in Thor's cape, said god beside her.

Nobody spoke. Tony was almost tempted to put the suit's helmet on so he could chat with Jarvis to escape the silence, which would probably make the others think he was even weirder than he was. Well, Loki pretty much knew already.

The billionaire was still secretly glad Jarvis could function here, too. He was limited to the suit, no communication or internet access, but at least Tony wouldn't have to control the suit manually. That would have been a nuisance.

"Brother, are you mad?"

Tony's gaze snapped to Thor and then followed the way the god's line of sight. His eyes widened just the slightest. They were heading towards a wall of stone much too fast.

"Loki?"

"Trust me," was the only reply.

It was better than the nothing Thor had got.

It was enough.

But Tony still closed his eyes.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

His grip on Jane's arm was harsh. It had less to do with any desire to harm her and almost everything with the strain of holding things together. True invisibility was hard; maintaining an illusion less so. If he turned, he could see Tony and Thor following at a distance—his eyes did not need to be fooled by the illusion of landscape.

Impatience stirring inside of him, he stopped and yanked Jane closer.

"Malekith!"

As if he wasn't close already. But he could pretend he didn't know—after all, had he not heard it from Thor, he would have had no way of knowing the elf could sense the Aether—and then yelling would seem completely reasonable. To a degree. Thor would certainly do it.

Perhaps Loki shouldn't have.

His booted toes hit the barren earth. Jane muttered something beside him, but he ignored her and focused on breathing instead. It was only magic. If things went well, it would be the only magic he would have to do.

The thought left a bitter aftertaste. He could handle magic; he could simply not enjoy it any longer.

As if his shout had been heard, a battleship shimmered into existence on the horizon, headed their way. Good. He had an extra snippet of time to prepare. Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his chin and let his gaze pierce the approaching ship.

It was a large vessel, shaped differently than any he had seen even during his fall, high and narrow. The endless height of its body didn't seem very practical. The invisibility, on the other hand, fascinated a part of his mind beyond belief. The ship landed, digging itself into the earth, and the dark exterior parted. Dark, silent figures spilled out of the gap and parted to allow two of them to pass; they had to be Malekith and his henchmen.

Loki's fingers twitched with the desire to call forth a knife and end this, stab the life right out of the Dark Elf and the creature with horns and skin so much like wood at his side.

_His mother's killer_.

Keeping his face carefully blank, he strode forward and practically threw Jane onto the ground; a groan escaped her lips.

"I am Loki—" but not of Asgard, not anymore, and not of Jotunheim, either; Tony's, if he had to belong anywhere "—and I bring you a gift!" His foot connected with Jane's side; the force threw her onto her back, but Loki didn't let his gaze linger. His focus was on the two… Elves… in front of him.

"Word has come to me that you seek this."

Malekith's pale eyes narrowed.

"Am I to assume you have brought her to me and risked Asgard's wrath out of the goodness of your heart?"

A mirthless laughter passed Loki's lips.

"I do not have a heart." But he did. For Tony, he did. "No, what I ask in return is a chance to watch Asgard burn to the ground. I trust that should not present a problem?" A sneer danced on his lips while his own words echoed in his ears.

Tony was hearing this.

Tonywas hearing him talk this way.

"Hmm…" Slowly, in a manner of a predator, Malekith stalked around the Trickster. Loki resisted the urge to follow the movement with his gaze and forced his posture to stay relaxed.

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't." He glanced at Jane, who was lying in a heap on the ground. Her time was running out. "But we have a common enemy."

"Indeed…" The Elf came to a stop in front of Jane. His watery blue eyes met Loki's gaze. "I accept."

The god swallowed a sigh of relief and forced his mouth into a grin. Clasping his hands behind his back, he readjusted his grip on the spell and tried not to think about it at the same time. Finally, finally, Malekith turned his attention to the woman, grabbing her jaw with one hand. Then, he let her fall, but only for so long; taking a few steps backwards, he raised both arms, and following the motion, Jane's body lifted off the ground. Her mouth fell open, her hair spilled down her shoulders—then Loki backed away as well, and her face disappeared from his vision field. Wind caught her clothes and ruffled his hair—there had been no wind in space—and he instinctively reached to the side with his hand, searching for someone he knew wasn't there. Just a bit longer—

Dark red particles swarmed the air like bees, but where was Thor, _where was Thor_—

Jane collapsed back onto the ground. A moment later, lighting came rushing down from the sky. Loki's gaze shot around; he couldn't see Tony, but Thor's woman was right there, too close, and he threw himself at her with enough force to send them both sliding over the dirt away from the blinding light.

A hiss fell from his lips as his shoulder hit the ground and dull pain blossomed in it. Ignoring it, he crouched, body tense with expectation, and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.

Malekith was still standing, the Aether still floating menacingly, if such a thing was even possible. Thor's grip tightened around Mjolnir's handle. Tony was standing further away, arm stretched out and ready to fire. Jane was still breathing.

As if caught in slow motion (the way those earthly movies were wont to show movement so often), Malekith spread his arms, chest pushed forward, and the Aether stirred. The master called; the servant answered. For a moment, the redness preserved its undefined form. Then, it rushed to Malekith's chest—into his chest—and Loki swallowed a curse. Possibilities flitted through his mind. Fight or flight. They had a helpless person with them. But there was Thor. And the henchman. _The henchman_.

Lightning burst from the sky once again, but it did no good; it bounced off the Aether helplessly, and before Loki could even blink, Thor was rolling over the dirty ground.

Blades appeared in Loki's hands, called forth from his pocket of space. One of them sank into a Dark Elf's neck with deadly precision, the other would have hit Malekith's forehead if it wasn't for the Aether. A wave of force slammed into Loki's chest, knocking the breath out of him, then there was a hand squeezing his neck. Pale blue eyes bored into his.

He couldn't breathe.

"You will have Asgard burn," the Elf hissed. "And you may watch while you burn with it, little godling."

_Don't call me that._

The hand pulled up.

_Don't you dare call me that._

Fire exploded from Loki's hands, hissing and happily lapping at the other's clothes and skin. With a sharp hiss, Malekith let go. Gasping, Loki watched him retreat and stop only to relay something to his henchman before he disappeared back into his ship.

Was he so confident the others would kill them? Or was he kindly allowing them to return to Asgard and report their failure?

Low.

Not that Loki cared too much. He was here for revenge and partly to save Jane's life, both of which could still be achieved.

If only Thor hadn't launched himself at the henchman. They rolled a couple of times, and then Loki couldn't watch anymore because of the soldiers that surrounded him and Jane. Naturally, it wasn't Thor who stood beside her to protect her.

It didn't matter to him if his fighting had less of its usual elegance and more of the brutal, ugly striking this time. There was a sickening crack when his elbow connected with an Elf's face, but his attention didn't linger. A familiar beam of light went past his head and hit its target in the chest, and Loki turned to give Tony a short nod. He wanted to smile, too, but something caught his eye; a movement, a disturbance in the air. His expression must have told Tony to react since the man flew away from the spot—good, that was good, Tony wasn't in danger—and Loki yanked Jane up and pushed her away, ready to run himself even as an invisible force pulled him off his feet, and _no, no, no, nononono—_

Metal fingers closed around his wrist and pulled him away. Breath caught in his throat, but he was alive. Wrapped in Tony's arms some feet above the ground and alive. With an exhausted sigh, he leaned his forehead onto the cold metal of the armour.

"Thank you…"

"You okay?"

"I will be." He lifted his head and swept the ground with his gaze. It was strangely satisfying to see Thor thrown around like a puppet. Nevertheless, he couldn't let anything serious happen to the oaf; who else would be blamed but Loki?

"Protect Jane and kill the rest," he said. "I'll save Thor's skin. Now drop me."

"But we're—"

"Drop me."

Tony obliged. Barely a moment passed before Loki's feet connected with the ground. He rolled over his shoulder into a crouch, then pushed himself forward and sprinted. He jumped over the body of a fallen Elf—and stopped.

Their force fields.

There.

He snatched the capsule from the body's belt, grabbed the discarded blade, and dashed forward again. Damn Thor. Such a competent fighter he was supposed to be, yet he was thrown around like a fishing boat on stormy sea.

He was not allowed to die today.

And the henchman was destined to.

The blade pierced the monster's chest. Loki's hand slid to its waist and tucked the capsule in a rift between the leather armour pieces.

There were two surprised sounds, but he cared about neither. An ugly grin stretched across his face.

"That's for my mo—"

His voice failed.

His eyes grew wide. His breathing caught.

A dagger was sticking out of his chest just below the left clavicle.

It _burnt_.

A gasp parted his lips, and his legs gave way, but the ground didn't seem as hard as before. His vision blurred.

_Poison_, a distant part of his mind whispered.

It burnt. Burnt like acid forced down his throat, or poured over fresh wounds. He couldn't breathe—couldn't breathe—_it burnt—no more, please, no more, PLEASE!—_but they wouldn't listen, they never listened—_it BURNT—_

"Loki!"

Hands on his shoulders, forcing him down, but he had to get away, had to fight—

A change swept over his body—_no, no, he wasn't supposed—they couldn't know_—_they'd_—

"LOKI!"

Tony.

Tony's voice.

They couldn't see. He would deal with everything else later, they couldn't see him—

Magic bled over his skin. Then, his eyes snapped open, taking in the grey sky and Thor, who fell onto his knees at his side, and then there was Tony, visor opened and hands reaching out, bare hands reaching for his face—

"Don't touch me!"

He couldn't hurt Tony again. He was a monster, and no glamour could change it; he could feel it, even through the burn, the shift in the temperatures, the feeling of being stuck in a body that was not his own.

"It's me, Loki, it's me! It's okay!"

Tony reached for his face again, and couldn't he understand—

"Don't touch me! Please, please, I don't want to hurt you, don't touch me—"

"You won't hurt me. Loki, calm down."

He didn't understand! "No! I'll hurt you! It's a glamour, Tony, it's _just a glamour!_"

Something that might have been understanding dawned in Tony's eyes. Loki couldn't be sure; his vision refused to sharpen no matter how much he blinked.

"You won't hurt me. I know you won't."

And then there were hands on his cheeks, and Tony wasn't screaming, wasn't pulling away—how?

How…

He tried to ask but only a strange strangled sound came from his throat. His chest felt too tight, his torso was on fire, and his vision was turning black—

How…?

Somebody was shouting something. Tony? Was Tony…?

His lips moved a bit, and perhaps something even managed to get out. Perhaps.

The world was fading to black. He wanted to see Tony again, but there wasn't anything left, only darkness—the space—so much darkness in space…

~*oO*o*Oo*~

"No! Loki, no!" He shook his head, desperately pressing down on the wound. It was just a little stab wound, just a stupid injury, _it shouldn't be that bad._

It was strange, feeling warm blood under one hand and cold skin under the other. Jotnar skin. He could feel the ridges, the curving lines, even though he couldn't see them. How it happened that his skin wasn't turning black with frostbite, he didn't know, but he was holding Loki, and the only thing that hurt was his chest.

"We have to get out of here." He glanced over his shoulder at Thor—and frowned at the god's gaping mouth and wide eyes filled with something... dark. "Thor?"

The Thunderer's frown deepened and he leaned away.

"Thor?"

"Loki..." Thor pressed his lips together as if the word had left a bad taste on them that needed to be rubbed off. "He's..."

Tony's head snapped back to his lover.

Blue skin.

Of course.

"Yeah. Come on, we need to get back to Asgard. He needs healers."

Thor shook his head. "But he's a..."

Swallowing the anger, Tony cradled Loki in his arms. "Heimdall!" he shouted. "Heimdall! We need the Bifrost!"

This had to work. It didn't matter if they got in trouble—they already were. And Loki needed help. There was no way they were getting back they way they came here.

"Stark, we're not supposed to—"

"You think Loki can get us back?! You think I'd rather see him die than get us in trouble?! And fuck, stop staring at him as if he's something repulsive! He's your brother!"

"I am not—very well." Thor's face was a storm given shape, but he got up and turned to where Jane had been before just as she staggered to him.

Tony's gaze returned to Loki. He pushed a strand of hair away from his face. "Hang in there, babe. We'll get you help."

Loki didn't even move. Tony bit back a curse.

"Heimdall! Please!"

He probably didn't have the right to ask. Born in the wrong realm or something. And would it kill Thor to call for their Watchman, too? Would it kill Thor to be helpful? Surely Loki's skin colour wasn't the most important thing right now—

Ah. So maybe Thor _was_ calling Heimdall. Okay. Okay. Calm down, Tony. Loki was going to be okay.

Moments later, blinding light enveloped them. Tony pulled Loki even closer. Air was knocked out of his lungs, and his skin felt too tight. His stomach rebelled. But when his knees hit solid ground again, Loki was still in his arms.

The next thing he saw were somebody's legs. Heimdall's legs.

"Hi. Thanks for pulling us out of—"

The sound of hooves made him look up just in time to see a magnificent stallion come to a halt. A stallion with eight legs.

So the story was true?

He didn't really have time to think about that now. Odin dismounted, took the scene in with a sweep of his gaze, and crouched in front of Tony. His hand came to rest on Loki's forehead. A moment later, pale pink bled over the blue, and Tony noticed a blood stain on Loki's cheek. He lifted his hand to wipe it off—

And realized the lines on Loki's face were not a play of light. They were scars. Curves residing where there had been the slight ridges before. Pinpricks scattered around his lips.

Tony's chest constricted. He'd seen Loki in bad situations before, but the scars had never been visible before, not even when the Trickster had come too close to madness for comfort. He considered pointing that out, but Odin had already straightened.

"Thor, get her to the healers. We will have words later." Then, his eye focused on Tony. "You can fly, can you not? Follow me."

"But Loki—"

"We are going to the healing rooms. Follow me."

Douchebag. But it was what Tony wanted (although carrying somebody while flying wasn't his favourite thing to do), so he nodded and got up, Loki still in his arms.

Thor probably looked much more elegant flying with Jane. Not that Tony cared right now. And if somebody saw him, he'd probably win the Most Awkward Flight of the Year Award, but there was nobody on the Bifrost. Streets were mostly empty, too, due to darkness, though the closer to the palace they got, the more people there were. Luckily, they scattered out of the way; Odin wasn't exactly riding in a relaxed trot.

They came to a momentary stop at the end of a wide promenade, Odin giving the reins over to one of the guards who were stationed at both sides.

"Follow me, Man of Iron," he said without pausing to see if his words would be obeyed; Tony hurried after him. His steps echoed, metal hitting stone. One walk through endless, seemingly identical corridors later, they finally entered a circular room surrounded by pillars between which doors to some unknown places resided. More bronze-golden rooms, Tony guessed. A few women were hurrying around; they stopped almost at once. Respect was their first reaction—respect to their monarch. Then, their focus shifted, and although Tony could feel the weight of their gazes, he knew they were not looking at him. Watching their closed-off expressions, he swallowed.

At last one of them, a young, blond woman, stepped forward. She was a pretty sight, and once upon a time, Tony would have cared.

She bowed her head. "Allfather."

"You will take care of him and treat him to best of your ability," Odin said sternly. "Bring Eir to me."

The woman nodded. She said something to one of her companions and inclined her head to the side, gesturing for Tony to follow her through one of the doors. Fabric pooled around her legs as she walked, and Tony caught a glimpse of boots.

"Put him down," she said. Seeing as there was only something that looked like a glowing examination table in the room, the command was perfectly clear. Tony barely had the time to let go of Loki (not that he wanted to) before a small group of people spilled into the room: Odin, a middle-aged woman with an air of sternness about her, and two more healers. Finally, Thor poked his head through the door, and somebody was telling Tony to go wait outside as if he didn't belong here, didn't belong with _his_ Loki, but Thor got sent out as well, so perhaps it was a work thing rather than something personal. It didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Sighing, he leaned against the nearest pillar.

"How's Jane?"

Thor turned to him. "She will be all right after some rest. They say her body is exhausted."

Tony nodded. Good for her. Good for Thor. Thor, whose gaze kept flitting from Tony to the door and back to Tony again, then finally to his hands clasped in front of him that refused to stay still.

"Say… Friend Stark…"

"Yeah?"

"You knew about Loki…"

His eyebrows arched. "Yes."

"Oh." Thor's face fell. There was something strange in his eyes. "He told you?"

"Not exactly. It was more of an accident. Why?"

"And it did not… It does not bother you?"

He shook his head. Sure, it was strange, but Loki was still Loki, and there was something fascinating about it. He'd been contemplating asking Loki to show his Jotnar form again, but with all the memories connected to it… He hadn't.

Thor rubbed his forehead. "Father told me about it, but when I saw Loki…"

Ah. Confrontations with reality.

"He looks… He looks like _them_."

A frown twisted his brow. "Well, what were you expecting?"

Thor shrugged. "He is _Loki_. I thought…" He shook his head. "I suppose I'm not a very good brother."

Tony crossed his arms on his chest. "If you're hoping to hear a reassurance about how you're a great brother, go ask someone else. I can't give it to you right now." A pause. "What the hell were you thinking, not telling Loki about his mum?"

"Another day wouldn't bring her back from the dead."

"And the funeral?! What of that?!"

"We are at war!"

"You are _not _at war! I don't see any fighting around here, only someone who was too selfish to see anyone but his girlfriend!"

"Enough!" Thor roared. "I protected Asgard! Taking Jane away was for the good of all of us! _You_ are the selfish one here!"

"Me?! Why, because I'm the only one who—"

The door opened and the blond woman appeared.

"Boys," she said, which should have been kind of funny because Tony at least _looked_ older than her (not that it meant much), and Thor was the crown prince, but none of them laughed. "Be quiet. If you cannot, I would suggest you remove yourself from this place. We are trying to work."

Work. Right. Loki.

"Will he be okay?" Tony asked.

She looked at him as if she was trying to find all the answers to her questions on his face. "Yes," she said curtly. "No more shouting," she added and disappeared back into the room.

Tony stared after her. Loki was on the other side of this door. What if he needed support? What if wasn't going to be fine after all?

"Hlin," Thor said, and the inventor twitched. Good thing it couldn't be really seen in the suit.

"Bless you?"

"No, Hlin. She was friends with Mother…"

Oh, the healer. "Mm-hmm." That didn't tell him very much. "Why's your dad allowed to be in there and we are not?"

Admittedly, not the smartest question ever what with Odin being the king and all. But knowing the answer didn't mean the sense of unfairness could be chased out if Tony's mind. He glanced around, then stepped to the door and pressed his ear against it in hopes of catching at least bits of conversation, but there was nothing.

"It won't work," Thor said. "Sounds don't go through."

Scowling, Tony backed away and sat down on the floor, back against the wall. "Your plan failed," he remarked.

Thor's lips formed a straight line. "Yes." He turned to Tony. "There will be war now. You will see warriors fight."

The sigh that left Tony's lips was filled with weariness to the point of spilling. "I don't _want_ a war. That's your culture's hobby, not mine. All I want is to go home and take Loki away from this madness."

"He chose to come here, did he not?"

Tony snorted. "Of course he did." Loki had wanted to say goodbye to his mother. Though perhaps… He'd fought for others before. Protected worlds that weren't his. Selfish reasons or not, his blood had been shed, and the lives of others went on as if nothing had happened. Because nothing had happened. Not to them.

The inventor sighed. "It's what he does."

* * *

A/N: Please review ;)

~shades


	5. Chapter 5: Could Very Well Be a Lie

A/N:

I am so, so terribly sorry for the long wait. It was just [insert excuses here]. I promise next chapter will be up faster, and I'm really hoping this won't happen again.

I'm also looking for a beta, if anyone would be interested... You'd have my eternal gratitude.

* * *

**Summary: **Asgard has strange confession times. Tony wants Loki's bedroom. Loki doesn't.

**Chapter V–Could Very Well Be a Lie**

_Separation (noun): the action or state of moving or being moved apart._

Fire.

They liked fire.

His skin didn't agree with it.

Nor did his insides.

But there was so much fire everywhere, an inferno of agony, and how, _how_ did they manage to catch the burning of fire into a bottle so skilfully, so exactly that he would swear he could feel the tickling of flames if every sensation wasn't drowned in the pain of never-ending torture—

Perhaps if he stopped breathing, cut off the supply of oxygen, starve the flames to death—

It was worth a try.

A try.

What was a try?

Could he stop?

Would the pain stop? _Could_ the pain stop? Was there a limit, an end, a beginning? Was it not eternity he was caught into, desolation of a void so enormous it could never be filled?

He couldn't think.

Funny, was it not? Always so careful not to push too far—did they make a mistake? At last?

Would his essence be eaten away by fire, become fire, and burn down everything and forever?

He needed to stop breathing.

Why? Why would he need…?

_I forgot_.

He didn't need—

Did he—

_Just stop._

There was sweetness in pain, somebody had once said. This pain was rotten with sweetness, overwhelming, poisonous sweetness…

_I should stop._

Stop breathing.

Stop.

_Stop._

Could you stop in eternity…?

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Thor had left, and Tony's body was starting to grow very uncomfortable in the suit when the cursed door finally swung open. Rubbing his tired eyes, he shifted.

"I should have known you would be here."

He lifted his gaze to Odin's face, criss-crossed by tired lines. "Yes. You should have."

The king frowned. "There are many things you allow yourself, Man of Iron, but someday, you shall go too far."

"What can I say—I have a blatant disregard for authority." He shrugged but got to his feet nonetheless.

Something dark passed Odin's face, and for a moment, Tony feared he had really crossed the line, but then the shadow was replaced by an expression of world-weariness, and he let out a breath.

"You and Loki both."

Tony nodded. When he spoke again, his tone was much more agreeable. "Can I see him?"

"He is sleeping."

Was that a yes or a no? Because Tony was very much willing to understand everything as a yes; even a no could potentially be interpreted as a very reluctant yes in the Tony-speak.

A heavy sigh passed the monarch's lips and he turned away. "I should have known Loki would be involved in this."

That was a lot of should-have-knowns, and was it confession hour? Tony didn't have a therapist licence, and last time he checked, he and Odin weren't exactly best buddies.

"You could have just let Thor use the Bifrost." But then that creature would have probably killed him, since there would have been no Loki to save the day.

"I could have. I chose not to."

"Because you were hoping Jane would die and Thor would move on."

Odin turned again, eye meeting Tony's gaze. "I have a kingdom to think about," he said abruptly. "A kingdom that needs an heir and a future queen. Of course I forbade him to go."

Tony didn't say anything. He knew why Thor had done what he had done, and now that he wasn't seething with anger anymore, he could see how it had been a good thing for Asgard, too. Still, he wasn't prepared to play Thor's advocate just yet. Or ever. The Thunderer could speak for himself.

"I didn't think he would go to Loki right away, nor that he would manage to persuade him."

Definitely confession time. It was official, and still not making sense, except perhaps it was. As far as Tony knew, Loki's situation was a private affair; Odin couldn't really talk about to it anyone, not with his wife dead. There was Thor, but even Thor didn't seem to be informed, so that left Tony. Which was kind of sad, now that he thought about it.

"He didn't."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He didn't persuade Loki."

Odin's brow furrowed, and a spark of interest lit up his eye.

"Jane paid us a visit, told us what happened. Loki came for revenge."

"Hmm." Odin clasped his hands behind his back, made a few steps in one direction, then back again.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Tony said suddenly.

"We had an agreement."

"And agreement? About what? Not telling Loki the one person he considered family died? That was a great agreement, really. You would let Loki think his mother was still alive for years to come? And then what? When he decided to come back? When—"

_When I died?_

Odin regarded him in silence. "No," he said finally. "I would have told him."

Tony held back a snort. It was easy to forget who Odin was when his aura of imposingness wasn't turned on and Tony was mad.

"Why not now?"

Another pause. He saw Odin's chest lift with a heavy breath.

"You must understand, Tony Stark…" That eye bore into him. "No parent finds it simple to face their children's anger, especially when it is justified."

Tony blinked, then did it again. Odin afraid of Loki's anger? It had to be bullshit.

His eyes narrowed. "You thought he'd blame you for Frigga's death."

"He blames me for great many things. Some of his misdeeds can be traced back to me. I have done wrong, and yet I have seen him suffer for the right thing."

That… was a pretty lame excuse. Not that Tony didn't know what wanting to avoid anger was like, but there was always a line.

_Coward,_ hung at the tip of his tongue. He pressed his lips together.

"And the funeral? He wanted to see that."

Odin's eye narrowed a bit. "As far as Asgard knows, Loki is still banished."

"What about now?"

"You are here as Thor's guest."

"And Loki? You're not throwing him out, are you? _Are_ you?"

After a moment, Odin shook his head. The next breath felt a bit easier to take.

"Can I see him now?"

"Yes. You may go."

May go?

Right. Kings. Pff, Tony definitely had problems with authority.

"Um, thank you?"

He didn't wait for any other words that could follow. Instead, he turned and finally, finally got to open that damn door. It slid away soundlessly, forming a contrast to his steps.

Loki was sitting on the table, shirtless and slumped forward. His skin was about as pale as the towel (was that a towel?) that hung around his shoulders. Strands of hair clung to his skin, soaked with sweat. Two women were still around, the blond one—Hlin, was it?—and the stern one. They looked up when Tony entered, one a bit more surprised than the other, but said nothing. Hlin said something to Loki that was too quiet for Tony to hear, and then the two healers made their way to the door. Apparently, they were allowed to pretend he didn't exist. Fine with him. It wasn't like he craved anybody's attention here. Only, Hlin stopped just for a moment when they were face to face, gave a slight nod, and said, "Anthony Stark," but left before Tony could ask anything. How did she even know his name?

Not important. Loki mattered right now.

"Hey."

The god looked up with the most minute of smiles on his face, but tired, oh so tired. Tony let the suit open and stepped out—he hadn't wanted an audience for that, thank you very much. The less people knew what his suits could do, the better. Let Asgard think it was just a shiny armour.

Closing the distance, he came to stand between Loki's knees. Loki leaned his forehead against him.

"You okay, snowflake?"

A nod that Tony felt more than saw as he wrapped his arms around the god's back.

"Odin said you were sleeping."

"I was."

Tony nodded even though no one could see it. Silence settled around them with the elegance of a feline. Then,

"The dagger was poisoned. It felt like acid."

Oh.

_Oh._

"I'm sorry. But they fixed you, didn't they?" Gently, he pushed Loki away and brushed the towel off his shoulders. The skin underneath was smooth; no sign of stab wounds or other injuries, but it could very well be a lie. The scars on Loki's face were no longer visible, yet that didn't mean they were gone.

"Yes."

" Babe?" He caressed Loki's jawline with his knuckles. "Will you let me see your scars sometime?"

"Perhaps. I… I'm so tired, Tony…"

"Okay. Can you magic us to your room?"

"I'm tired…" Loki slurred, sagging against Tony.

Huh. He would have to think of another way to get there, then. The problem was, Tony had no idea where Loki's rooms were, and he really didn't want to carry the god through the entire palace where everyone could see.

"Here." He helped Loki lie down again. "I'll go ask someone about the rooms, okay?"

The reply was too slurred to be understood, so Tony took it as an agreement and slipped out of the room—

Only to almost crash into Jane. Or Thor. Or both. They were standing right next to each other and must have been about to enter the room. Good for them that the door opened inwards…

"Oh, hey, Big Guy. Great timing. Any chance you could get us to Loki's room? And make some food appear from somewhere? I think I deserved food. Double cheese pizza. You don't have those, do you?"

"No, we do not. Come, friend Stark, I will show you to your room."

He threw a glance over his shoulder. "My room? I have a room?"

"There are rooms for guests."

"Not Loki's? Why not Loki's? Is he not allowed to leave yet?"

Thor frowned. "You are here as my guest."

"Yeah, that's what your dad said. What now, I'm not supposed to be seen around Loki?"

"Stark, people would talk if they saw you entering or leaving his rooms."

"So?" he challenged. "He's my lover."

"He is a criminal!"

Tony fixed him with a glare. "So are you. So am I."

Thor's eyes narrowed. "You take everything I say as an attack."

"Maybe because it sounds like that."

"Oh, cut it out!" Jane put a hand on Thor's biceps, and her gaze bore into Tony. "Thor, stop accusing, Tony, stop being on the defensive all the time. We should get some sleep."

Thor nodded. "You will spend the night in the guest rooms, friend Stark. Loki's situation is uncertain still."

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. He could always sneak out at night.

_Or not_, he thought later when he followed Thor and Jane through the corridors, armour-suitcase in his hand. There was no way he wouldn't get lost in here.

So far, he really wasn't a huge fan of Asgard.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Loki woke up gasping, drenched in cold sweat, and fighting remnants of phantom pain gripping his body. His hand shot up to his throat and he rolled the tongue around his mouth, just to make sure it was still there…

His eyes searched for Tony, but the darkness of the room was only penetrated by gentle starlight spilling in through the windows; the familiar glow of the arc reactor was absent. Loki was back in his room, apparently having been unceremoniously dumped on top of the bed, but where was Tony? Had something happened to him? Loki needed the man, and _why wasn't he here?_

Breathing escalating, he climbed off the bed, ignoring the pain pulsing in his head. The soles of his boots hit the stone; whoever had brought him here didn't even care enough to take them off. It was hardly surprising.

He dragged himself to the door, pushed at it—

Nothing.

He pushed stronger, and still the door did not give in.

Was he a prisoner now? Why? He was not supposed to be in Asgard, that much was true, but it was only an agreement keeping him out, no longer banishment. Unless… Odin would twist it all again, blame him for letting the Aether fall into Malekith's hands. He had saved Thor—did that account for nothing? The same way it never had before?

Then suddenly, panic rose inside him. If he was locked in here, what had they done with Tony? If they'd hurt him… If they'd hurt his Tony…

The burst of magic stemmed from rage as much as from panic. It threw the door off the hinges but did nothing to lessen either of the feelings. He needed Tony.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

He didn't understand. Why would he cry now? What was there to cry about? He had his powers. He could find Tony and get them away from here.

Yet he found himself leaning against the wall by the doorframe, back pressed against the cold stone. His eyes only watered more when he let them wander about the room, and a knot of pain tightened in his chest. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything.

Tony always told him to breathe.

He pressed a hand to his forehead and forced himself to suck in a breath. As long as he kept breathing, he should be fine. Purposefully, he pushed all thoughts out of his mind and slowly straightened. He tried to ignore the room, the dust that had settled over everything that had ever been precious to him.

His mother...

The sudden sound of footsteps made him snap out of the daze. His muscles tightened, senses sharpened.

His fingers twitched.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you thought.

~shades


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